


Swearing in the Jester

by ecrituredudesir



Category: Furry (Fandom), Original Work
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Humiliation, Non-Consensual Tickling, Other, Piss, Public Humiliation, Spanking, Tickle torture, Tickling, Urine, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24814972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecrituredudesir/pseuds/ecrituredudesir
Summary: After being taken prisoner by the prey Princess's Court, Misha is shown his place as their new fool. Serving as entertainment for many just beyond the Princess, Misha learns his new place is more humiliating than he could have realized.A commission for someone on Furaffinity.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

The Princess had clearly enjoyed the show of Misha wetting himself, given her next proclamation was delayed only by the grin and thinly veiled edge of laughter to her tone. She only withheld so she could keep her formal appearance up before the court for _now—_ after all, she couldn’t properly display her mirth for an unsworn fool. There would be the swearing in ceremony, of course, only after he was properly cleaned and the floor of her throne room mopped of his earlier mess.  
  
Still, as Misha was dragged by the guards away from the throne room and seemingly away from the baths of the castle as well, he gave a small, miserable glance up to one of the guards dragging him by the arms still. “Where…. Where are we going?” He asked hesitantly, once the last open room bearing a luxurious bath seemed to fade from their path. “Wasn’t that a bath back there…?”   
  
The guard simply lifted a stern brow, scoffing at the somewhat innocent question. “You think your kind are going to be washed like one of us? After pissing all over yourself?” The sneer was evident in his voice, and Misha found his face burning in humiliation at the immediate reminder of his embarrassment, though before he was given any further information, the guards brought him to the large, open courtyard at the center of the castle. It was bustling with activity, with everything from the washers to the gardeners normally tasked with keeping the castle greenery tended to were set about that day’s work—and Misha was dragged straight to the heart of the women doing the washing. There was an even mix of both elderly, round women and the younger maidens that were likely their daughters or granddaughters who had stopped in their daily tasks to regard the poor red fox being hoisted in their direction, only for the guards to toss him to the ground in front of them.   
  
“The Princess requests that you clean up her latest fool,” one guard announced, “as he doesn’t have the common sense or decency to not _piss_ himself before the entire court!”   
  
Misha slunk further into the ground at the declaration, his ears going flat with humiliation as he heard a chorus of laughter slip from the women. “That’s not how it went-” he started to murmur, but the mirth of the women who would normally been considered _prey_ to his sort began to pick and nudge at him.   
  
“W-wait, I can undress myself-” he started hastily, hoping to find a little more mercy from the woman than he had from the Princess herself, but it seemed they were terribly efficient in what they had been asked to do. Whenever he found a hand to try and push away from plucking at his clothing, another two would show up to replace it to strip away what little modesty he might have had left in the courtyard full of people, and his flustered protests were only regarded with a few snickers—and further away, even more open laughter from those who showed no pity for the predator who had shown up with the rest of their captives.   
  
“Please!” he echoed only when he was stripped naked, and his clothing taken out of sight by an elderly woman who made a face at the stench, “I-I can wash myself-”

  
“Just like you can wet yourself?” the guard retorted, with a bitter smirk in his direction. “Let these poor women do their job, you’ve already made _more_ than a mess of everything.”  
  
“Is that what that smell is?” One particularly lovely young maiden questioned, and the fact that they could apparently scent his urine on him was a little more embarrassing, silencing him as they started to hoist him into one of the larger washing tubs, after removing their laundry from the water. None of them wanted the clothing of the nobility to smell like fox piss, after all. Immediately, he was set upon by several of the women, who started to scrub at his pee-soaked fur with little respect for staying away from his privates, ignoring his squirming.   
  
They were beginning to draw a crowd, with even others not involved with the washing showing up just to make a show out of the poor fox being bathed like a toddler, rather than a grown predator. He turned his face away from an older mole gardener pointing at him to his younger worker, both laughing at how different he looked from many of their expectations. “Please don’t...” He begged, eyes closing tightly, only for them to shoot wide with a yelp as one of the women smacked his bottom.   
  
“Don’t be such a baby about it!” She teased him immediately, her weathered face lifting in its wrinkles from how bemused she was at his embarrassment. Immediately, he gave a small yelp when another pinched his other bottom cheek. This brought out another chorus of magic, and when he ducked his head forward to try and cover it with his front too paws, they only used it as an excuse to tease him more for putting his rear on display while they scrubbed and washed at the mess he had made of himself. Only when he gave a little squeak when a younger female tickled his bottom did one of the guard’s snort.   
  
“Careful, that’s what made him pee himself the first time,” he warned, watching as another young sheep maiden gave him a spank to keep him from wriggling so much that he threatened splashing them with the warm wash water.   
  
“Only tickling? Wow, how did these predators think they were ever going to win against us in real war? How embarrassing to have someone like this among their ranks,” the sheep answered, giggling in unison with a few others at the comment as he sank as much as he could in the water, hoping to avoid the torment of their exploring hands, though he couldn’t hide both his face and his bottom from the onlookers and aggressive washers.   
  
“Oh, he doesn’t seem to be that ticklish!” Another exclaimed in amused disbelief, reaching forward herself to skim her fingers across his bum, drawing a soft squeal from him once more.   
  
“Hahahaha- n- no p-plea-heese-” he burst out, and the immediate reaction was enough to stop her in surprise, but immediately afterwards, the courtyard burst out in mocking laughter.   
  
“Plea-heese!” One echoed mockingly, rolling her eyes as she gave a little smack to his bottom to get him back into place from his sudden protest. “At least you’re going to make a good plaything to improve the Princess’s mood!” Surely none of the rest of them wanted to deal with her in her more petulant moments, so having a new court jester would keep her, and clearly the rest of her court, occupied for a while. In the middle of his bathing, though, a messenger popped in quickly to whisper something to one of the guard’s ears, making the man stand at further attention as he cleared his throat to interrupt their fresh bemusement at Misha’s expense.   
  
“Her majesty says to hurry. He’s being called to return to the throne room to properly bequeath him his new title as court jester,” the guard announced, and Misha felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach that he would be called back so quickly. Though the women had nearly been done with bathing him regardless, there was a unanimous sound of complaint that their own new source of mirth would be taken so quickly.   
  
“Oh, come now, ladies,” the mole gardener from earlier announced to comfort the washers. “If he’s that weak that he’ll piss himself just from a little tickling, I’m sure you’ll all get to see plenty of him to clean him in the future, as well! But if he keeps it up, she might just have to start keeping him in diapers...”  
  
Misha winced at just the suggestion, praying that none of the staff would consider suggesting such a thing to the princess. The last thing he wanted was to be known as the jester that wet himself _and_ one that had to be kept in diapers, but he wouldn’t put such a thing past the court now; anyone who had ever suggested that the prey kingdom couldn’t be just as vicious, or even more so than the predators was dead wrong. Misha was finding this out the hardest way possible.   
  
“Very well,” one of the washing maidens sighed, before shifting forward to lift him up in the wash basin to drop one last pitcher of warm water over him, running the soap and suds from his fur in one easy movement. He stood there, his knees quaking still as he looked reluctantly back to the guards, and to the courtyard around him.   
  
“Can… I have my clothes back?” He asked hesitantly, earning a scoff form one of the maidens.   
  
“Oh, you won’t be needing those anymore. They’ll give you a proper uniform when you return to the throne room,” came the dismissive reply from the sheep washing woman once more as she gave another slap to his ass, making him yelp in surprise as he stumbled forward, out of the wash basin and once more into the escort of the guards. They didn’t grab him this time, clearly expecting him to walk alongside the mas they moved to escort him back towards the throne room, dripping wet.   
  
Though the trek there would surely dry him off a bit, he tentatively spoke up again. “Um… maybe… a towel?” He gestured to where several drying towels were hung next to the sheets from laundry poles in the courtyard, but several of the women regarded him with subtle flat looks.   
  
“Want us to spank your bottom again, little fool?” One of the rounder women asked, and taking the threat at face value, Misha’s tail tucked and he moved along quietly with the guards back through the halls of the castle, his face burning every time they passed a servant or some resident. His nudity was on full display, and if he wasn’t so afraid of tripping over himself and causing himself further embarrassment, he would have closed his eyes to try to avoid the stares that he received along the way. There was scrutiny in their gazes, already alight with the stories of his humiliation that were bouncing through the halls after his earlier ‘display,’ and when they made it back to the throne room, it was noticeably more packed. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the Princess inviting more of her court to witness his shame, or if there were simply that many people showing up just because they’d heard the rumors themselves.   
  
The guards had to part the crowd for them, but there was already the peals and echos of laughter as people spotted him passing, his nudity on display as if it were little more than another show for their amusement. If the Princess had moved in the time it had taken the wash women to scrub him clean, it wasn’t possible to tell—she sat in her position in the same, pristine condition that he had last seen her in, but there seemed to be a slightly more malicious gleam in her eye than he last remembered seeing. It sent a shiver of fear through him so powerful that he thought he might wet himself again on the spot, but when the delicate lapine stood from her throne this time, a hush ran over the court as all eyes turned to where she slowly descended the dais of the throne she’d sat atop, to where he had been brought forward directly to her feet. He found that he couldn’t quite bow low enough to her, given their difference in size, even as he prostrated himself as close to the ground as he could. The last thing he wanted was of offend her, though stealing the smallest look up made him quiver as she bore her scepter in hand.   
  
“I have been discussing with my court that it is time to decree your new, official position publicly,” she informed, her voice loud enough that he knew that she was addressing the entire room and not just himself. He opened his mouth, as if ready to plead with her once more in hopes that he had come across her in a better mood than he had before. She carried on, though, leaving him not room to talk as she lowered her scepter to his shoulder in a mockery of ‘knighting’ him.   
  
“From today, you will be my personal court fool! And of course, we must have you dressed appropriately.” Her paw twirled in an image of faux-drama and elegance, and at the gesture, he flinched as if he might be hit, already fearful of her power and the power of her soldiers. She simply tapped the scepter on each shoulder, before she called forth two guards who produced a harlequin outfit and presented it to him. There was a small hint of confusion, because there was something _off_ about the outfit that he couldn’t place in the heap of fabric until he actually pulled it on. “And _thank_ me appropriately! It’s from the kindness of my own heart that I offer you such a prestigious position in my court.”   
  
There was a hole cut out of a large portion of the back of the outfit, and the minute he got it on fully, he could feel the breeze of the area most exposed: his entire ass hung out of the jester outfit, and when he turned to try and get a better look at where his own tail hung easily from the hole, it accidentally wound up flashing the entire court his naked bottom in the outfit. He bristled in embarrassment as laughter rang out, and letting the people enjoy themselves, the Princess returned to her throne. Misha’s ears drooped with the swelling dread in his chest at what was to come, but her sharp order made him flinch. “T-thank you, your highness...”  
  
“If you think that is how you show gratitude in my court, you are sorely mistaken. Kneel and bow to me, show your allegiance as my fool,” she commanded aloud, and swallowing hard he fell to the command, not wanting to know the further consequences for disobedience. On his knees, she scoffed at his attempt at a bow, which caused further rapacious laughter behind him as both, full cheeks of his ass were now stuck mooning her entire court. They were clearly greedy for more entertainment, and the Princess gave a coy smile to her guards. Quickly they moved forward, one taking each hand as they stretched them far forward, holding him in place as he squirmed in a sudden panic.   
  
“W-wait, what are you-”  
  
“Silence! As court jester, it is now your responsibility to entertain the _entire_ court, along with being my own _personal_ source of amusement! My ladies will be allowed to personally enjoy your company as well.” That was all that she needed to say, before gesturing to her ladies in waiting, who proceeded to pull a litany of feathers from where they’d been waiting eagerly for this, and one by one, they progressed forward to begin to flick those feathers against his exposed rear. His eyes went as wide as saucers as the tickling began, and he gave a loud squeal as his face buried downwards between his arms, shaking rapidly as he tried to bite back his laughter.   
  
“Nooo-!” He finally squealed, unable to keep himself silent any longer. “Oh, oh no- hahahha! No, y-your majesteeee-heee please I – aahha- I didn’t do anythhiiiheee-ng wrong!” He squealed desperately, tears welling in his eyes as the embarrassment started to set in. He could feel his bladder squeezing already, each little squirm and writing motion only making the pressure there worse. As if he hadn’t made a mess of himself enough yet, the water he’d been pushed into and accidentally swallowed from his bath earlier had gone straight through him—filling his bladder again with more than enough urine to make up for what he’d spilled on the same throne room floor earlier. His ribs ached with the force of laughing, and whenever one of the women and their teasing fingers and feathers seemed to tire, another would take her place just as quickly, drawing the same desperate pleas and giggles from him.   
  
When he nearly wheezed on another chuckle, he felt the first spurt slip from him, making a noticeable wet spot appear on the front of his jester uniform.   
  
“Ruining it already?” The Princess mocked aloud, watching as the front of the cloth sagged forward, shiny under the new weight of the liquid soaking through it. “If you can’t handle just that, they aren’t going to go easy on you!”   
  
As if to emphasize the Princess’s words, the tickling increased in intensity as his cries for mercy became wordless, twisted breaths of laughter, his butt wriggling on display for the entire court as the ladies in waiting caressed the fur and underside of his tail with the tips of the feathers, and the next hard guffaw was enough to make a gush of hot piss spurt from him with such force that it hit the wet inside of his outfit and then sprayed through it in a little gush, followed by the full release of pressure in his bladder. In shuddering gushes, he felt himself unable to hold the urine any longer. In a puddle that spread rapidly to where his knees were still held to the ground, he wet himself in shaking, desperate sobs that were indistinguishable from his laughter, shame running through him until the lapine held up one paw to have her ladies in waiting cease their torment.   
  
“Normally, positions in my court come with special titles above just what their jobs are,” she explained in a voice nothing short of too-sweet, “and from today on, you shall be known as the Wet Fool. Now sit in your mess, and think about what you’ve done.” Gradually, the guards pulled back from him, leaving him shaking in his embarrassment before the laughter of dozens.


	2. The Ballads of the Wet Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abandoned by his countrymen, Misha becomes a trophy to be paraded across the Princess's lands.

Misha had grown to dread every beckons he received to attend to the Princess in the throne room. He had never anticipated the prey kingdom to be full of particularly ruthless citizens, but the longer he remained in her court, the more he grew to realize that the rabbit Princess and her people could be crueler than any predator, perhaps. Rising from the small quarters he’d been given that morning, the first thing he had been told was to take his breakfast and to go to the throne room immediately. His clothing had, once again, been cleaned for him to appear in, and he would never quite get used to the humiliating feeling of passing a few of the gossiping women of the court in the hallway, feeling his ears burn as he heard their giggling whenever he passed, knowing that they had turned and gotten a full view of his bare behind hanging from his own, _special_ jester outfit.   
  
The last few weeks had proven...particularly humiliating, however. As he passed the windows of a grand hallway, he looked out with a wince to see what he knew would already be there; with the captured flags of the predator army, and every other army they had overthrown thus far, were the pants and underwear that he had arrived in. Pee-stained and on display for everyone to see, starting more rumors than were actually true about him, they served as a constant reminder of his humiliation and servitude to his new monarchy.   
  
He could already hear the commotion from the throne room on his approach, his gaze dropped in a submissive dread already as he heard the sounds of one of the bards of the court strumming upon his lute.   
  
“And they say! The Wet Fool lost the day, for he did pee his pants, at the sight of our army’s advance!” The song echoed. It was one of many of similar ballads; so many of them had painted the lost battle as Misha’s fault, from everything declaring that him wetting himself had caused such a distraction among his own men that there was simply no way that their own army couldn’t just walk in and take their forces easily. The last time he had tried to speak up against it, to defend himself, the Princess had had him held down and tickled him until he had apologized, red faced and near sobbing with his embarrassment at just how much he’d covered himself in his own mess before the entire court, at even _thinking_ that it wasn’t his own, perhaps fault that the predator army had fallen. He had done his best to not question her at that point, finding the prospect of angering her again to be the most terrifying thing about his stay in her court.   
  
“And here is our Wet Fool now!” the bard announced immediately upon noticing him, and Misha felt like he couldn’t shrink small enough under the sudden scrutiny of the entire court. Though he had gotten used to being called both ‘Fool’ and ‘Wet Fool,’ hearing the nicknames called across the court and having that attention brought to him in full circle the center of attention for the rest of court was a particular brand of embarrassment that he had trouble processing. Just as soon as he wanted to slink back among the crowds and shrink against the wall, it seemed the bard’s proclamation had drawn the attention of the Princess herself, who quite smugly stood from her throne with a gesture to him.   
  
“Fool, to me,” she demanded—and knowing better than to defy her whims, he slunk through the parting crowd for him to come kneel before her. He had developed somewhat of a habit of quivering before the Princess, something she had come to taunt him over so far. “There you go, shaking again. Will you wet yourself from your nerves alone? Truly, I’ve never had such a defective jester, but if you’re going to pee all over my floors, again, I’ll make you clean it up this time.”   
  
He didn’t want to know just how she’d plan on doing that, so subconsciously, his thighs clenched together to try and keep his fear under control. Still, she continued on her prideful little chatter when she didn’t hear any attempt at a response from him; it wasn’t a bad thing. If nothing else, the lapine Princess was rather happy with how well ‘training’ her jester had gone so far, particularly since he no longer seemed to question her or her decisions nearly as much as he had previously. “Now, if you’ll kindly turn your attention to my artisans.” She had directed her words to the entire court this time, rather than to just him.   
  
Two smaller creatures approached, and between them they carried an impressive, hand woven tapestry. Already, Misha could feel a sinking feeling start low in his stomach and press even further down at the sight of the story told by the hanging art. “They had it specially woven, you see.” The two moved forward to put it on a grand display, on the first step of the dais before the entire court. The Princess continued, “It tells the story of the battle between your kingdom and mine. Our glorious victory—your humiliating defeat. It even goes so far as to tell the special story of the Wet Fool, who to this day, graces these very halls.” She turned a pointed look down to him, even though she was clearly still addressing her court.   
  
“You see, I had them provide a special thread for the tassels, here. You can see the story, right down to here, where you prostrate yourself in front of me and the court. The fabric is a very special golden material, you see? It flows right through the fabric like I expected it too, and shines just as much as your pee does on my precious floors every time you widdle yourself in front of my entire court.” This _was_ said directly in his direction, and he could hear the gaggle of court ladies closest nearby all burst into softer pitched giggles at his expense. Somehow, it was worse to know that the prey women considered him such a joke, and he sunk down against the floor, wanting to sink into the ground so they wouldn’t be able to at least _point_ at him anymore if they wanted to laugh. Miserably, he lifted a single paw to hide his face, though the Princess abruptly cleared her throat, making it clear that she had no intention of allowing him to actually hide away.   
  
“As I was _saying_ ,” she said louder, “this precious gold thread was used to tell _your_ tale of defeat, so thank me properly.”  
  
“I..” He dragged his gaze from the beautifully woven tapestry, ending its tale with the clear image of a fox wetting himself, the golden thread hanging from the end to signify the endless flow of his pee. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep it from dropping to think that such an expensive thread had been used to permanently tell the tale of his humiliation, though as he tried to avert his gaze, something else caught his attention. To his growing dread, he realized that the _other_ art projects that the Princess had recently commissioned were also coming back on display. In a grand feature wheeled in from the court’s other artisans was another perfect likeness of him done in stained glass as well—complete with the bright yellow arches of glass that flowed from his glass-counterparts privates, exposed to for any to see who happened to come across the work of art. He didn’t know where that stained glass was to be hung, but he did know that it would be on display in a very _public,_ well known area. Stained glass was a luxury that the nobility tended to want to display the most, after all. The thought of it going up somewhere in the castle where the common folk would see it, or worse, some place of worship—it was almost enough to bring tears to his eyes to think of how people, hundreds of years from then, would look up and laugh at whatever legacy he left behind.   
  
“What was that?” The Princess demanded as his words trailed off, her large, lovely eyes narrowing. He had almost forgotten that she had demanded his gratitude, after all that she had done. If he had once thought of how he might be remembered forever, this was not how he’d thought it would go.  
  
“T-thank you, your highness,” he stuttered, his voice shallow with the horror of the fact that he could now hear the laughter pick up across the entire throne room. She seemed to glow with the pride of having him so _grateful_ for her mercy and kindness in immortalizing him for the entire court to remember permanently.   
  
“I thought that we should celebrate, of course. Your kingdom struck an impressive bargain just to have all of their soldiers returned home,” the Princess informed, a knowing little smile lingering on her expression. She could see the way that hope lit up in his eyes; if his own kingdom was trying to bargain back their safety, then that meant that perhaps a wager had been struck for him as well. He could only hope that after everything he had suffered through, someone would have finally come to his potential rescue. “Of course, when they heard of your humiliation at my court, and your contribution to your own troop’s downfall… well, they didn’t really want _you_ back out of everyone. So it looks like you’re going to be my poor, pathetic Wet Fool until the end of your days at my court. You were a total laughing stock at our meeting with your homeland, so it looks like you’re still doing an _excellent_ job as my jester! We actually traded all of the troops back this morning, and each and every one of them was more than happy to leave you behind. I wonder if it’s because of just how badly you shamed your homeland?”  
  
Her lift of her paw to her chin in thought, tapping against her own soft fur, was entirely performative. His head had dropped with a breath shaking in quiet horror from his lungs. The echo of the court’s laughter seemed to bounce around in his head, every one of her words leaving a permanent reminder of his humiliation, with the slinking shame crawling thick across his neck and making the hairs there bristle with the reminder that he was now stuck there. Forever. His homeland viewed him as a disgrace, his fellow soldiers had sold him out as a traitor, and his life was now a cycle of torment, and the only sound that would haunt his days and dreams would be the giggling of every woman look who looked at him. It was worse, knowing that those were the ones enjoying his suffering the most, with the Princess’s laughter echoing louder than the rest as the court dissolved into further giggling. His ears folded down with the rest of his body language as he sank into the shame of the moment, before the Princess got a hold of her own mirth in exchange for clearing her throat.   
  
“In honor of our complete victory, I have already prepared for us to go on a tour of my kingdom. The people deserve to see the Wet Fool, after all-- you are living proof of our superiority. We’ll be leaving immediately, so it’s a good thing you haven’t soiled _those_ clothes yet, isn’t it?” Judging from her harsh look, she clearly expected an answer.   
  
“Y-yes, your majesty...” he nearly whimpered, squirming in place. “… but you mean.. _right_ now?”  
  
“That _is_ what I said, isn’t it?” she scoffed, stepping down from the dais. By now, Misha had learned that he was to follow at a distance, but when she gestured, he fell in line a small bit behind her. She lead him at a surprisingly swift pace for her small stature to a carriage out at the main gate to her castle. “Now, of course, this is more than a show of power. This is for _you_ to begin making amends to my people for daring to even step foot on our lands with ill intent. You are to repeat, regularly, how great my kingdom is, and how _kind_ I am for the mercy that I have shown you. And, of course, your own worthlessness.”   
  
He winced, already feeling his mouth begin to go dry with dread, but he nodded, agreeing as he climbed on the back of one of the carriages; he wasn’t allowed to sit in one like the Princess, but he didn’t understand why until they began to ride through the countryside. A fox was a rare enough sight to the prey kingdom, but one in a jester outfit, with his ass hanging out the back of it and his tail flapping in the breeze, was enough to make any poor field worker burst into fits of laughter. He could hear it echoing from every town they passed through, and every traveler they passed, and if there had been a soul in the Princess’s kingdom that had _not_ heard of him by the time their tour was over, it would surely only be the ones that lived under rocks, that he was sure of. Traveling in the open air with his bottom out was hard enough, though, with the bumpy roads and few breaks taken, Misha found himself all but exhausted and more humiliated than he’d even been at court—a feat that he had thought impossible until an entire country had seen his rump jiggling and bumping along on the tail end of the Princess’s carriage.   
  
When they finally stopped for the afternoon, on shaking legs, Misha stepped down from the carriage to announced, as he’d been instructed to, “The P-Princess is visiting each of her towns with her troupe, declaring victory over her foes and bringing entertainment in her troupe, which is...” he flinched for a moment, because this never got easier, and his tail was already tucking between his legs from the soft giggles he was hearing echo from the crowd at the sight of him. “telling the story of me, The Wet Fool, and our crushing defeat...” He swallowed hard, and already came the boos and mockery from the crowd upon realizing that he had been in the crowd with the other predators. Immediately the crowd set upon him, with the Princess watching and only a stern warning not to damage her plaything, and he was lead up to what seemed to be the town square, where a pillory and stocks for public punishment was already eagerly being whispered about among the townsfolk. None of them had ever gotten to take a personal revenge against the predator armies, but they knew they had free reign as long as they didn’t bring any _real_ harm to him.   
  
The smaller children of the town were already rushing forward to see who was going to be punished today, and upon seeing the fool in his bottomless outfit, were already dissolving into fits of laughter as well. Misha, who hadn’t had a break since their travels began in earnest that morning, was already tired getting tugged up to the platform, but not even the loud teasing of the children crowding around his legs as he was lead up to the stocks could distract him from the most pressing discomfort of the day.   
  
He could tell that his bladder was completely full, and after the bumpy ride on the back of the carriage, he couldn’t help but start to press his legs together. His knees and thighs had begun twitching, and his uncomfortable squirming wasn’t missed by the rather large crowd that had started to gather to watch the public spectacle that he was being made into. The poor fox flinched, clearly in need of some relief, though it was the same children that had tailed along at his sides when he’d been brought to the stocks that took the first notice of this, reminded of their less potty-trained friends and siblings that had the same issue at times.   
  
It was only in overhearing one of the stories being told by the troupe already that they realized just _why_ he was called the wet fool, and in minutes, the children were rushing up to the stage in droves to torment Misha further over it.   
  
“What’s the matter, fool? Didn’t get a potty break before you got put in the stocks? Maybe if you behaved better, you wouldn’t be punished!” One child echoed out, and rather than just press his knees together, Misha shifted to cross his legs, eyes closing tightly as he tried to do anything but focus on their taunting.   
  
“Look at him! I bet he’s about to bust!” A little girl laughed out, sneering at his unfortunate position before a few of them burst out laughing at his expense, and reached forward to start tickling at his sides.   
  
“W-wait!” He started to protest, his eyes going wide as he felt their nimble fingers working across his sides. The tickling started immediately, and from the way his body jerked and flinched and squirmed, they were easily able to find the most ticklish spots on him. He looked up, trying to see if there were any who would stop the children in the midst of their tormenting him, but there were only the crowds watching, already chuckling at how he had been brought low by the little ones, and the Princess surveying the entire scene from a distance, a bemused smirk on her expression. “No-- no, please- hahahah!” His hard laughter burst from him immediately, and his head and wrists shook in the stocks, keeping him in place as the children laughed and tickled him more.   
  
“What, you gonna wet yourself?!” A boy shouted, clearly enjoying the fact that they were putting on a show for everyone. “Wouldn’t wanna get your _pants_ wet, would you?!” He asked, and Misha’s eyes went wide as he felt the tickling hands grab his pants instead, dragging them in one swift motion down to his ankles. Though he’d been embarrassed by being disrobed before, it had never been in front of an entire town, and he felt his face burning as he realized the stocks did nothing to hide anything below the waist from how he’d been forced to stand. Tears welled in his eyes at the heated shame as there came the laughter of the crowd again, more than one person mocking the exposed skin.   
  
The children, not to be dissuaded, continued tickling his bare thighs, the skin even more vulnerable than when it’d been covered by his clothing. “Wow, you’re pretty scrawny for a wolf, huh? Is that why you’re so ticklish? I bet all the predators are like you, how’d they ever think they could beat us?” The boy who had pants-ed him declared gleefully, and in the middle of laughter so hard he could feel his rib cage ache, Misha realized that he could no longer control the pressure in his lower belly. With the kids making a clear ring around him to dodge the consequences of their torment, Misha gave a soft groan of shame as he started to wet himself, the dark rivers of pee running down his thighs and gushing in streams ahead of him, falling to the wood below him on the stocks as the children squealed in laughter and mockery, scrambling away from him to avoid being splashed with any of his pee. It’d been so long since he’d had a chance to relieve himself that he didn’t stop once he had started, his stream falling into a growing puddled under him as the crowd beneath jeered and mocked him for his lack of control.   
  
He flinched at the mockery, breathing hard to catch himself from the extent of the children’s tickling long after they had all scrambled off of the stage. When he finally opened his eyes, bearing the worst of the crowd’s cheering, he saw the Princess dismiss an offer to take him down from the stage.   
  
“Let him sit there. Maybe he’ll _eventually_ learn some self control.” He could make out her words, and with another lingering ache of shame, he watched as she returned to her carriage, leaving him to the awful realization that he’d be standing in the stocks, soaked with his own urine, until she eventually decided to let him go. Until then, his shame was on the open and anyone that passed would see the full nudity of his lower half, soaked in his own pee.


	3. The Wet Fool's Venture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeking a chance to redeem himself as anything other than a fool, Misha takes a shot at taking down a dragon for the Princess's favor.

It had felt like months since Misha had been told that his fellow troops had been ransomed off back to their homeland—and that he had neither been exchanged for, or even wanted, by his countrymen. It was a miserable existence of constant torment and humiliation. The ladies of the court would slap at his bottom when he wasn’t being embarrassed by those of the court tickling him until he made a mess of himself, only to be followed by the Princess publicly berating him for once again failing to control his bladder in her court. Gradually, the fox was growing more and more desperate to escape the life that he had fallen into, trapped in a repetitive cycle of shame. After a while, he had lost the ability to keep track of how many days or weeks had passed, and it all started to blend into one, long horror show that he had no opportunity to escape from.  
  
He’d grown to become a feature of the Princess’s court, sitting to the side on his knees with his bottom hanging out of his pants even while she was addressing the concerns of her land. It was normally a process that bore some severity, but bored the Princess still, and it wasn’t long until one petitioner approached with his hat in his hand.   
  
“Your highness, our town is holding our annual festival soon, but there is a fierce beast that we fear could ruin the celebrations. We ask for your assistance in finding a hero that might be willing to fell the beast before it can interrupt the festivities.” The Princess regarded the petitioner thoughtfully for a moment, before a small curl of a smile graced her delicate lips.   
  
“Of course. I shall open the royal coffers and offer both a boon and my favor for any who dares to venture and take down this terrible beast,” the Princess announced with the same, soft, coy smile as she regarded her court with the proclamation. Immediately, Misha knew that he’d found his chance, and he lurched forward to scramble to his feet.   
  
“Your majesty! Please give me a chance to go after this beast so I can prove myself!” He pleaded, desperation on his features as he clearly tried to seek out the chance to free himself—or if not to free himself, then to at least be able to better his standing in the court to be known by something _other_ than the Wet Fool. His outburst seemed to surprise the court, and the Princess fell silent as she gave him a chilly look.   
  
Still, after that moment of consideration, she gave a brief wave of her hand, a half-smile lifting to her features. “Very well,” she announced, standing. “We will suit you with weapons and armor, my fool, and we will see just how well you may remember combat from your time in the predator army.”   
  
At the chance to prove himself, Misha felt his heart jump with a momentary joy as he was lead along to the prey’s royal armory and suited for battle attire that would give him what he hoped would be enough of an advantage to take on his unknown opponent. To his surprise, when he returned to the gates, the Princess had readied her entire entourage, with several members of the court also preparing to accompany them. The entire court had readied to follow him and the petitioner who had come to beg the Princess for her help in the matter.   
  
It struck him as a little odd that so many would come willingly to watch the slaying of a beast, which was surely going to be a dangerous battle for the nobility to want to linger around freely. Still, he could only hope that this meant they had some kind of faith in his abilities, making him feel a little proud as they were lead far away from the castle to one of the nearby towns, and from there, into the woods nearby.   
  
Only when they reached a cave of impressive size did he have any idea of just how big the proclaimed beast might be. It looked as if part of the cave had been carved out by claw, and as the petitioner moved to gesture the Fool forward, there came an impressive, terrifying rumble from within the darkness of the cliff wall that had Misha doubting himself, a shiver of cold fear sliding through him as movement began to echo from within. The fox had to pause, uncertain of just what he’d gotten himself into, before a shape began to manifest at the mouth of the cave, and suddenly, a tall dragon came to into view. She was a massive creature that towered over the entire crowd and Misha alike, and realizing just what he’d signed up for, Misha went pale, his knees quaking together at the sheer size of the ‘beast’ he had come to slay.   
  
Terror ran through him in a surge, and looking back to the crowd for only a moment before his attention returned to the dragon, his mouth opened only for a short string of fearful gibberish to slip out. He couldn’t tell if he was more tempted to run or to try and reason with the dragon, who stood over him with a snarl, teeth bared and hostilities on full display. The sight of her in her fully enraged state, looking ready to tear him limb from limb at a moment’s notice was what finally made Misha break down on the spot.   
  
Shaking in his fear, he gave a faint whimper, and immediately the dark trail of pee running down the inside of his thigh came to everyone’s attention, his breeches soaking through to a dark color as he wet himself. It trailed down his legs to make a dark stain on the ground, and immediately, despite the terrifying creature looming over all of them, the others in the court behind him began to shout and laugh aloud, their vicious mockery of him continuing as he once again earned himself the name of the Wet Fool. In front of all of those who had come from the village, and all of the ones who were in attendance from the Princess’s court, he had wet himself publicly again.   
  
It wasn’t the noise that stopped the dragon’s aggression, though stop it did; the dragon regarded him with some sense of shock, and the low rumble of curiosity that slipped from her took on a softer, more interested tone as she dropped to all fours to get a better look at him, nudging him over to get a better look at just what he was, and what he had done. His blabbering and crying had caught her attention, but so hard the mess that he had made of himself, and his terrified, but infantile display of him losing control of his bladder in his fear had caught the dragon’s more… motherly tendencies.   
  
Before he could try to turn and run, which would have been hardly successful with how much his legs were shaking in the first place, soggy and soaked with pee, the dragon surged forward to scoop him up into her grasp, and began to make quick work of the messy armor the Princess had sent him in with. Peeling the leather and chains away with ease and surprisingly deft claws, he could only squirm and plead in a mess of words for the dragon to stop, while all of those watching on simply laughed; he couldn’t understand why they were enjoying the show, given the dangerous dragon that was now simply yards away from the host of what looked like a party more than a group coming to ensure the slaying of a dragon.   
  
“W-why are you just standing there?” The poor fox begged, uncertain of whether or not the dragon was simply disrobing him to make a faster meal out of him. “Please. Please help me-!” It was humiliating to have to beg his captors for assistance, but he’d rather lose the last shreds of his pride than be eaten alive.  
  
“Ah, you silly fool,” the Princess spoke aloud with a lofty giggle. “You think I would have actually come along to watch you if there was ever any danger? We all knew that this dragon had mothering issues already—the petitioner came and told me privately first, and I had him announce it to the court just to see if you’d try playing the hero for once. Really, there was never any danger—you just made an excellent lead in for the town festival’s shows!”   
  
Her laughter started to ring out, a sound that he was more than familiar with by now. It still made his ears fold back and humiliated horror spread across his features to realize the extent of which he’d been ‘played’ by the Princess’s machinations all for an interesting show to be had, and court accompanying him on the journey now made _much_ more sense. They had never been in any real danger, they were simply using him as an elaborate toy to amuse themselves with once more. He gave a groan of embarrassment, but it was easily drowned out by the laughter of the court once more.   
  
Now that he knew that the dragon wasn’t about to _kill_ him so much as _mother_ him, an entirely different fear rose in the pit of his stomach, and before he could stop the great creature, she hooked her claw into his pants and shredded them downwards, letting him hang from one hand like a doll while she pulled off his pants with his back facing the crowd, giving them all a perfect moon view of his bottom cheeks. Despite his squirming and clear dread at this humiliation, she simply retreated briefly into the cave and returned with a cloth diaper in her other hand. From what he’d seen of the cave contents—various baby supplies stolen from the local village, among other things suggesting that she had been wanting to nest for a long time, now, he had no reason to doubt that the Princess knew where this would have gone from the very beginning.   
  
The newfound mother dragon was absolutely convinced that Misha, from his terrified babbling and the way he’d wet himself, was a baby—and he was now _her_ baby, as far as she was concerned. Using the dry parts of the clothing she’d pulled off of him, she cleaned up the soaked parts of his fur, trying to make sure he was clean no matter how embarrassing it was for him to be fussed over and put on display as someone who couldn’t clean himself. Each new embarrassment seemed to draw more laughter from the crowd, particularly when she pushed his legs apart and mopped up the evidence of pee there as well. There were plenty of girls from the village who echoed out their laughter at this point as well, making him bring up both front paws to do anything to try and hide his face, since he couldn’t hide anything beneath the belt with the dragon’s insistent cleaning leaving him not only exposed, but humiliatingly helpless.  
  
Now that she no longer had nesting issues, she seemed completely fine with the town’s people approaching her, and if nothing else, she seemed almost _proud_ to show off her new baby as she laid him on the ground, one impressive paw holding his squirming in place as she folded a cloth diaper over him, a little clumsily given it didn’t quite fit over his tail. It exposed part of his bottom where the crack of his butt cheeks started, but otherwise clung fast to his hips like any diaper might, and once again he found himself dangling from the dragon’s grasp before he was curled like a baby up into her arms, left somewhat squished there while she cradled him.   
  
“And thus begins the shows for the festivities!” The Princess announced, whirling on her heel with her arms wide, clearly having masterminded yet another one of his elaborate humiliations. Though he was doing his best to avoid looking into the jeering, laughing faces of the prey citizens all gathered around to mock him, he caught the gleam of mirth in her gaze as she turned that smug glance to him once more. Before he could open his mouth to plead for mercy or help getting away from the dragon again, the massive beast cooed at him gently, reaching down to tickle him with the tip of one dangerous, sharp claw. With tears welling in his eyes already, he writhed and squirmed and proceeded to burst into laughter, which only encouraged the dragon to tease him more, given how she only saw that she was ‘cheering’ him up after his accident. She didn’t seem to register that the people all laughing were laughing at him in mockery rather than with any fondness that she seemed to have for him already.   
  
The crowd was riling her up though, and rather than retreat into the cave, it seemed that she was fully content with taking her newfound baby and showing him off at the festivities the prey kingdom were having. It seemed the ladies of the court were far more amused by the babying of the Wet Fool, though, and accompanied along with the dragon with plenty of time spent at her flank, teasing the poor fox while he shrunk into the dragon’s grasp, doing whatever he could to avoid their attention and giggles. Each one felt like a needle of embarrassment twisting and poking at the back of his neck, making him raise his hackles with nothing he could do about it otherwise, humiliated and ashamed to have once again made a fool of himself in front of the court. His bravado had gotten him nowhere good, and everywhere bad.   
  
And it had all been to start off the show for the townsfolk.   
  
The Princess lead the way as rulers tended to do, and the people who had not left the town to see the ‘failure’ of the Fool began to gather around, shocked at seeing such a formerly volatile dragon brought to such affection for the bundle of misery in her arms. Once they realized what had happened, though, the laughter started in the town square as well, with the dragon being led to a comfortable bedding of hay to sit down on so she could _truly_ put her new baby on display. People crowded around him, making him feel smothered under the intensity of their attention.   
  
He had imagined at some point that the festival after his ‘slaying of the beast’ would celebrate him in some way. Never had he thought that he would be part of the entertainment, with several young and old mothers and mothers to be also joining the dragon in cooing at him. The tickling started again from passerbys, and before he could plead or warn any of them about his wetting habits, and between one person ending their tickling under his bare arms and along his sides, another would step up in their place to resume the tickling that he had thought would end.  
  
Misha’s laughter echoed uncontrollably through the square, and no matter how he might try to squirm and writhe away from the tormenting tickles, and his breath caught for just a moment with the sinking realization that his bladder was not as empty from his fearful vacating of it earlier as he might have thought. Choking on another giggle he squirmed, trying to give some sort of wordless, breathless warning that he wasn’t going to be able to hold it anymore, before the dragon felt the diaper warm under her arm, with the red fox giving a half miserable sob-laugh of shame as he wet himself. At least the cloth diaper caught it, and with a soft, rumbling sound that could have been an admonishment for him making a mess of himself yet _again,_ the dragon laid him flat on his back in the town square,   
  
“No, no, wait-!” His laughter had stopped, even though he felt that he couldn’t control the pressure relieving itself in the diaper; even with the dragon pulled the cloth diaper back, he still peed a little against where it had pinned him down, and a fresh score of laughter slipped out of the people looking on. He could barely recognize their faces anymore, since so many of the court had gone on to enjoy the other festivities, and the ones watching him now were largely citizens of the kingdom who had stopped by to watch the latest fate of the Wet Fool they had heard so much about.   
  
“Aww, look at him still going! Poor thing really _is_ a baby, isn’t he?” One of the town girls sighed, before shaking her head. “He made such a mess of himself!” Her exclamation came with a giggle and though he couldn’t see her face, the soft, feminine voice mocking him so passively had his features burning with shame.   
  
Another woman, an older rabbit with more stoutly curves, clicked her tongue in admonishment. “Still peeing himself at that age? Fortunately, we have more cloth diapers here to make up for the one that he’s made such a mess of,” she announced, and with some dread, Misha realized that he was going from one diaper right into another, and the dragon was going to change him for the public to see again. When he started to wiggle, as if to protest this, the dragon’s warning rumble became just a little louder, and he had no choice but to throw his arms over his face to try and hide his expression while she peeled his newly wet diaper away, leaving his mess on display in the town square for all of those watching.   
  
As the woman had mentioned, they had plenty of cloth diapers on hand. He didn’t know how they fit, but after the dragon tentatively cleaned him up, he was being tucked right back into another one while the people cooed around him, using nothing but baby talk to address him given he had proven himself to have all of the self control of an infant. Being belittled and talked down to as if he couldn’t even _understand_ the crowd was the worst thing about it, but the words of ‘Aw, did the widdle baby pee himself?’ and ‘He looks like he’s going to cry, that’s fitting for a baby!’ were enough to make him bury his face against the dragon.   
  
The entire festival proceeded as such. No matter how he tried to hide that shame, more people would come by to coo and laugh at him, and before the end of the festival he was tickled into wetting his diaper twice more—each time followed by the dragon changing it easily and in front of his tormentors all over again, continuing the chain of his embarrassment.


End file.
